


a tale of snails

by blindbatalex



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, eh my first foray into writing carraville!!, even if it's kinda crack, idk what this is guys, implied / past beville, that's something right?, there are definitely snails though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9941294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: Jamie Carragher does not care much for Paris. Of course he also doesn’t care if Gary wants to have the best mini getaway known to man there with his brother, and one blond and golden David Beckham. And no one cares for snails.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Gary, Phil, and Becks actually went to Paris to celebrate Phil’s birthday and of course I found myself thinking about what Carragher must have felt about it. It’s not the most original and it could probably be betaed for grammar but this fic is special to me. I normally write at a snail’s pace (ha, get the pun!) and this just wrote itself tonight. It’s also my first foray into writing Carraville! I love these dorks and I hope you enjoy the story :3 
> 
> Here are Gary’s [ video](https://www.instagram.com/p/BQ6UkrhD_wI/?hl=en) and Phil’s [ picture](https://www.instagram.com/p/BQ6Z8n2jxO2/?taken-by=philipneville18&hl=en), complete with the caption. Okay also, my favorite French food, [ snails!](https://www.instagram.com/p/BQ6KgLrjdc-/?taken-by=gneville2&hl=en)

They are all singing happy birthday, very off-key and the camera shaking with the notes, lights dimmed and a small birthday cake in front of Phil. The lights turn on and Phil raises his glass, glowing and happy and a tiny bit embarrassed. Then, for no reason at all the camera turns left to David Beckham, all immaculately styled hair and sharp angles, his carefree laugh revealing a set of perfect teeth and forming small laugh lines around his eyes. The camera stays on him only for a brief moment, before turning back and whizzing past the other occupant of the table, but it’s enough. 

It’s enough to remind Jamie that they are there together in Paris, a reunion of teammates who were celebrating goals together even when they were only knee high, of lifelong friends, and Jamie is here by himself in Liverpool.

All those years when he was too busy to say Gary’s name with anything but a full sneer, Beckham was there celebrating goals with Gary on the pitch, sharing rooms, ruffling Gary’s hair.

He suddenly wishes _he_ could ruffle Gary’s hair too. Maybe he could get away with it on MNF but he needs a suitable excuse first.

 

_Eyy, Manchester United won and I hate how adorable you look. Here let me demonstrate just how much._

 

Okay, maybe a better cover than that. Jamie files it under to think about later.

Jamie stops the video before it can replay for the seventh time, and navigates to Phil’s Instagram page out of boredom and a touch of curiosity.

There is a morning run selfie with Gary by the Eiffel tower, and next to it is a group picture with the Eiffel tower in the distance.

Jamie calmly takes in the caption ( _romantic night in Paris_ ) and the way Beckham has draped a possessive, tattooed arm over Gary and does not bristle at all. Even though Beckham is too old to sport that hipster beanie and a leather jacket that is best suited to twenty year olds. And even though taking a picture with the Eiffel tower in the background is the most clichéd thing anyone can do in Paris.

_If only I was in Paris too,_ he finds himself thinking. _I would have done such a better job with the birthday pictures and the videos than these miserable gits._

And he would have known the meaning behind Gary’s mysterious drunk texts from last night.

**GN: _snaula+_**

**_???_ **

**GN: _snailsss!!!_**

It doesn’t matter in the end but in that moment Jamie feels a little bitter that he will probably never know what got Gary so excited about snails in the first place. He bets Beckham knows. The way Beckham knows the pure joy in Gary’s eyes as they lift yet another cup. The way he knows how to cook all of Gary’s favorite dishes, when the most Jamie can do is to pop something in the microwave.

_snails keeping u good company?_ he types but stops himself before he can press send.

This has officially gone too far.

Jamie is no teenager, and apart from that one red card he has never forgiven Beckham for aside, he has no beef with Beckham. It’s a good thing that Gary is having fun with his brother and his childhood friend.

He closes the laptop with a huff and goes upstairs to change, hoping that Stevie won’t hate him too much for pushing a brutal pace on their run. Or for the fact that they are going on a second run today whether Stevie yet knows it or not.

When he comes back he is going to write a cheeky comment on Gary’s birthday video post, the way he always does, and it will have nothing to do with snails.

_Meanwhile, late last night in Paris_

“You know, the way you keep talking of him, maybe we should have brought Carragher along here too.”

“We should have!” Gary shouts back over the loud music in the bar, David’s sarcasm and frustration going a mile above his head. “Wouldn’t it be hilarious to watch him try to eat snails? We could break the Internet if we filmed it.”

Phil shakes his head in silent apology. They have been drinking at the same pace all night, which by default means that Gary is the most drunk by now. David has always known how bubbly and talkative Gary gets once he’s head a couple of drinks in him. But Gary has never tried to talk so persistently about a Scouser before on any of their nights out. A Scouser whose accent no one can understand outside Merseyside. And oh, one whose face looks as though it was overrun by a truck.

“Here, I’ll tell him.” Gary says and fumbles for his phone. He looks so goofy and happy that David has to roll his eyes. Maybe they aren’t what they used to be--it’s been ages since they have been out drinking together--but David always assumed it was Paul or Ryan who replaced him as Gary’s best friend.

Not Jamie bloody Carragher.

“Snails!” Gary says and giggles as he types. His face glows as though he has won the golden ticket to Charlie’s bloody Pasty Factory.

David chugs what’s left of his drink and doesn’t think about nights before away games that they spent huddled together in the same bed. Where David could tell, even in the dark that Gary’s face glowed just this way as he looked up at David to say good night.

Phil meanwhile contemplates sending the video he took of Gary to Jamie just to embarrass his brother. After all he did capture Gary wonder very loudly on camera whether Valencia would still do as poorly if it had been Jamie next to him at the club instead of Phil.

Insulting as the conclusions of the tirade are to Phil’s pride, however he decides against it in the end. Because drunk or not he remembers the orders Paul gave to at a minimum not to hasten this terrible wedding they will all have to attend someday. And letting Jamie hear _I missed Carra every day but I’d miss you one day out of the month at most_ doesn’t seem to be in line with the goals Paul set.

So instead Phil takes a sip of his cocktail and lets Gary flirt over snails. Snails are safe. Snails protect them all. And if anything can delay the inevitable Phil is pretty sure it’s snails.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated :3  
> Also I very randomly saw Becks’ cleats in a shoe exhibition in a museum today, and I’d like to dedicate this fic to them. They were life-changing in their beauty.
> 
> -find me on [tumblr](http://blindbatalex.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
